To Be Honest
by F Elizabeth
Summary: Sectionals are over and done with and Kurt Hummel reflects on the past. But Nationals are coming up soon and will a little song betrayal make Kurt think differently of Katy-Perry obsessed Blaine? Will the Warblers take home the trophy?
1. Chapter 1

**_Hi! Sorry for not posting anything lately! I've been so busy the past few weeks! But this time I'm writing and I'll post a lot more often than I have been! Well, I was bored and after watching Klaine moments on my DVR a million times, this wonderful story came about. Enjoy!

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To be honest, I wish we had lost. Better yet, not even placed. It was torture to tie with the New Directions. There had been a spark of greed and anger in Rachel Berry's eye as they announced the results, like the results ignited a fire. Everyone on the stage had sighed, as we'd all been holding a breath for the last two minutes. I hadn't even dared to look to my left, past Blaine, to my former Glee club. If I looked past Blaine, he would've launched into a mini-speech about my home sickness.

That was four days ago.

The large trophy sat on the council's desk in the choir room, shiny and tall and important. I often found myself gazing at myself in the reflective plastic surface, shifting on my feet slightly so the features of my face would distort. My forehead would grow larger or my eyes would shrink. That was after almost everyone had left the room after rehearsal. Then Blaine would come up behind me, clapping his hand on my shoulder lightly. Just the simplest of his gestures suggested that he know how and what I felt. It was hard to keep anything a secret around him; he was easy to confide in.

"Don't worry," he had told me after rehearsal the day after Sectionals. "We'll get 'em at Nationals. I'll make sure of it. Come on."

It was difficult to make a small smile and meet his eyes when it wouldn't be okay. We wouldn't get them at Nationals. If we didn't beat them at Sectionals, how would we win at Nationals? We didn't have any flashy ensembles—something I was personally looking into—or fancy dancing skills. Well, maybe Wes had a few moves up his sleeve, but he wasn't going to tell anyone about those anytime soon. That was about the only thing the judges were looking at: appeal to the eye. Dancing, bright clothing, hair whipping, and occasionally they would listen to the song.

We didn't have any appeal, I admitted to myself.

I wish we'd lost. It would be easier to cope with than having to go against them at Nationals. I could deal with the constant battering on Facebook and twelve different status changes to "NATIONALS HERE WE COME!"

The good part, though, about going to a private school was that you had dorms. Dorms meant a home away from home. And home was a lot like hell, from what my father told me over the phone. Finn didn't call me anymore. The day I transferred, he called. The next three weeks, he didn't. He hadn't talked to me since he demanded why I never told him in private about my transferring. No more phone calls, no more texts, or e-mails.

The only one from New Directions who was still in contact with me was Mercedes; we spent almost every night conversing over Skype or Facebook. Even a few minutes talking with her made my spirits lift a bit, as if the transfer was just a dream. Sometimes, it was too good to be true. It was just a dream, I convinced myself occasionally. Soon I would just wake up in my own bed in the early hours of the morning, listening to Finn's obnoxious snoring across the room, until my alarm rang.

But every time I daydreamed of that, someone would approach me and I'd be back in one of the polished hallways; or my phone would ring and I'd find myself in my dorm room on the bed. Most of the time, it was Blaine, reminding me of Warbler rehearsal. It was almost like living two lives.

I sat at my desk, clicking through my e-mail, which wasn't much. Nothing ever came in my inbox anymore. It was usually flooded with Rachel Berry's constant Glee club notifications, like her special "Twin Dress-Up Day" or song suggestions. There was none. My phone vibrated against the wood and there was a new message from David.

_Hope ur not mad but we're all watchin one of ur videos. Come see?_

What did that mean?

With a pang of panic striking my stomach, I left my room and hurried through the school to the choir room. The door was unlocked and propped open. Wes, David and Blaine sat behind the large mahogany desk; a laptop was open in front of them. The trio had their mouths open a little as their eyes locked on the screen. A familiar tune buzzed through the little speakers of the computer and my heart leapt into my throat.

_Le Jazz Hot._

"How on earth did you get a hold of this?" I squeaked and rushed to the desk in time to see myself on the screen, dancing in the outrageous half tux, half white sequined dress. David and Wes shushed me as soon as the first word came out of my mouth; their eyes snapped back to the video. I bit my lip, having no other option but to watch. It was surprising why they would want to finish watching _this _performance. It wasn't the best of my shows, but it was enjoyable: the song was one of my favorites. Throughout the three minutes that were left, Blaine glanced at me, then back to the screen as if trying to imagine me in such an ensemble.

As I belted out the siren note at the last of the song, the three Warblers leaned a little toward the screen. The song played in my along with the dance like I'd performed it yesterday. Even though it was embarrassing, I found myself grinning and mouthing the words. The video timed out and David and Wes leaned back in their chairs. They were silent for what seemed like hours.

"How did you get this video?" I snapped finally.

"Some girl named Rachel sent it to us," Wes explained. "She e-mailed it to us, attached to a very long, very hateful letter about not giving you a solo for Sectionals. She said she was with the New Directions."

"Oh, Rachel! Don't open another e-mail she sends you, it'll probably give your computer a virus—"

"Why?" This time it was Blaine. "That was amazing! The choreography, the lighting, the music, the costume, it was just . . . Wow! Do you have any other performances like this?"

His enthusiasm had me taken aback. Was he really that impressed or just saying that to get on my good side?

"Knowing Rachel, she probably videoed everything I ever sung," I muttered and crossed my arms over my chest. Why did she send them the video? Was she trying to kill me? How did she even get their address?

"What else did you sing?" David asked curiously. "We could use some of your ideas for Nationals, if that's okay with you."

"Oh, um . . ."

I ended up staying another hour with the three boys, writing down the songs I'd sung at McKinley, including some of my personal favorites that I hadn't dared to introduce to the group. Blaine even suggested I sing them. When the hour was over, my throat was raw and we had a list larger than Rachel's ego.

"This is great, Kurt," Wes commented as he looked over the list. "I mean, do you really think they'll perform _Rhythm of Love _or _Drops of Jupiter_ at Nationals?"

"Well, I don't know," I replied honestly. _Would _they perform those specific songs?

"Even with just one of these songs," David said, taking the list from Wes, "we'll dominate for sure."

"But Nationals isn't for a month," I pointed out. "It's right before Christmas."

"Better safe than sorry." He shrugged. "Well, I've got a load of homework due tomorrow, so I'll get going. Great performance, Kurt. We'll talk about the set list tomorrow." He left the room with his laptop.

"I should probably get going, too," Wes said and folded the paper list into his breast pocket. "Thanks again for the ideas, Kurt. We'll be using a few."

The room seemed to lose its energy as he left. This left me alone with Blaine. He was staring out of one of the large paneled windows; his brown eyes smoldered in the golden sun as the end of the day approached.

"Well," he said after a shaky breath, "I'll see you tomorrow. Good job today." As he passed me, he clapped his hand on my shoulder, like always. But this time, it was different, cold, foreign, even.

My eyes trailed him as he slipped through the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Hello again, my good people! This is the second installment of To Be Honest! I was so shocked because about an hour after I posted the story, ten or fifteen people had added the story and three reviewed! Keep up the good work and more Klaine will come! Get ready for Sneaky!Kurt! :) Enjoy!

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The next day was the complete opposite of what I was used to so far at Dalton Academy. Usually, you could hear the Warblers talking in the choir room from down the hall, but it was eerily silent. My hands automatically clutched the strap of my bag as I slowly pushed the door open. It was similar to walking into a lion's cage wearing a necklace of sausage links around my throat.

"Kurt!" David said cheerily and it was extremely loud in the silence; I took a small step back. "Glad you could make it. Please, have a seat." He gestured warmly to the space on one of the couches beside Blaine, who looked like his mother had died. I hoped that wasn't the case as I sat down.

"But, I always come," I said slowly as I placed my bag by my feet.

"True," he muttered and cleared his throat. "Warblers, we are starting off today's rehearsal with the set list for Nationals." This sent an excited buzz through the air. "We've compiled a list of songs to choose our three winning songs."

"We'll be performing two group ensembles and one solo," Wes said and took the list from David. Slowly he named off the songs and most of them I recognized from the day before. The Warblers took a vote and ended up with _Rhythm of Love _by the Plain White T's and _Drops of Jupiter _by Train.

When the results were announced, whispers circulated around the room and it was difficult to tell if they were good or bad. I smiled inwardly at the choices. If we pulled off _Hey, Soul Sister _at Sectionals, _Drops of Jupiter _would be a piece of cake. And the Plain White T's song fit well in with the apparent theme of young love. But what about the solo?

"Wes?" I asked quietly. "What is the solo going to be?"

"We haven't decided who's singing it," he reported. "We'll let him, whoever it is, choose the song, as long as the rest of the club approves."

I nodded. What about all the solos I'd given them the day before? Were they not good enough? I crossed my arms and looked over at Blaine. His expression was still blank, solemn.

"Are you okay?" I questioned him softly amongst the chatter that had sprung up. At the sound of my voice, he instantly perked up, sitting up straight. He eyed me suspiciously.

"Why do you ask?" His tone was normal, but with an edge to it.

"Oh, um, no reason . . ." I trailed off and crossed my legs, folding my hands together to keep them busy. "You just looked a little . . . worried, that's all."

"I'm fine." Blaine concluded his statement with a small smile. "Just . . . Nationals, you know."

"Blaine," I gasped, "are you nervous about Nationals? The Blaine, who taught me courage?"

"Oh, be quiet. It's not like you're not nervous, either," he snapped and sat back against the couch.

"Well. You seem very anti-social, so I'll leave you be," I sighed. "But you'll come over tonight, right? I just finished organizing my online movie gallery and found _The Sound of Music_, and I was—"

The bell rang to cut my proposal short. Wes shouted over the talking about tomorrow they would run over the two group ensembles; the Warblers flooded into the hallways to get to their separate classes.

"Actually," Blaine said and stood up to brush lint from his pants, "as much as I want to, I can't. I need to finish a huge history essay due tomorrow. But I'll pick you up on that offer later, okay?" He hoisted his messenger bag over his shoulder and straightened his tie.

"Oh, okay . . . Do you need any help on it?" I offered politely.

"No, I'll be fine," Blaine said. "Thanks, though. I'll see you later."

Without waiting for me to say good-bye, he adjusted his blazer and left the room.

That night, I lay sprawled across my bed with my laptop open in front of me. Facebook was pulled up in the browser so I could check if anyone from New Directions had updated anything. It was very cliché, I realized, to check your competition's Facebook profiles, even if they were your former Glee club.

Rachel's status was the same as always: Gold stars are kind of my thing. Finn's profile seemed untouched. It displayed the same information it had the day I transferred. My hand hovered over the keyboard and I hesitated in sending him a message. We were step-brothers, after all, but I resisted the urge and moved on.

Tina was still dating Mike, to my displeasure, Artie was with Brittany, Quinn with Sam. I skipped quickly over Santana's and Puckerman's profile, not caring a bit about what they were up to. Mercedes had updated a few comments and changed her profile picture to her with a pink feather boa and shades. No one was online, sadly.

With a sigh, I closed out of the browser and shut down the computer.

It was different trying to fall asleep in an unfamiliar room, though it had been at least a month. I was so accustomed to Finn's stereo sitting on the table in the middle of the room; his football cleats at the door; and his gaming console hooked up to my television. But there was none of that at Dalton.

Lima was two hours away and it wasn't like I could drive there for the night.

My buzzing phone startled me. I snatched it from my bedside table and nearly squealed when I saw a new text message from Mercedes.

_Hey pretty boy Im visiting my aunts over this weekend+she lives half an hour from your preppy bird academy! Wanna come visit?_

The clock read seven at night. Curfew was strictly nine, or you weren't allowed back into the building until classes started. I figured I could make it to Mercedes' aunt's house in thirty minutes, chat for forty-five, and be back before anyone noticed! Giddy with the fool-proof plan, I replied to her message. She followed up with the directions as I traded my _Wicked _shirt and sweatpants for something more fashionable, something other than my Dalton uniform.

That was one thing I missed about McKinley: freedom to dress how I wanted. But that was part of the reason Karofsky teased me so much . . . A sigh left my lips at the thoughts of the confusing football player and of my expansive wardrobe at home. I snagged a Marc Jacobs jacket from my closet as I gathered my phone and room key, creeping into the hallway.

The boys' dormitories were separate from the school; there was a hallway that led from the dormitories there. The dormitories felt like a large hotel floor, except without the elevators or fancy ice machines. The carpet was a shade darker than the crème pinstriped walls and there was a wall lamp every few doors. Since a few hundred boys attended classes here, there were several halls filled with doors.

The soft carpet cushioned the heels of the black combat books that always squeaked if I walked on tile or hardwood and I let out a sigh of relief. I stepped forward and shut the door, turning back to lock it. The halls were clear. So far, so good.

And it stayed good as I snuck through the commons to the parking lot without gaining any attention and followed Mercedes' directions. Within thirty minutes, I stood at the door of her aunt's house. She pulled me into a bone-crushing hug before inviting me in for a cup of hot chocolate and a long overdue catching-up.

The evening went well and I was caught up in a conversation about the classes at Dalton when I glanced at her clock and realized the time; if I didn't leave soon, the doors of Dalton would be locked when I arrived. Giving quick thanks to my best friend and her family, I half-ran, half-walked to my truck and pulled off down the road.

The clock on my dashboard read ten minutes until nine as I pulled into Dalton's parking lot. From my car, a small glow of a lamp was visible in the commons and I tapped my nails nervously on the steering wheel. I pushed the thought aside and scrambled out of my car. Thankfully, the door to the commons was still open and I slipped into the building without a sound.

Every little noise that reached my ears sent me into panic mode; it made my heart rate spike, only for me to realize it was the fan blowing on a plastic potted plant or the leaves rustling against the windows outside.

The sight of the vanilla walls and carpet were enough to give me a little relief that I'd just made it in time. With a content smile on my face, I reached my door and stuck my hand in my pants pocket. However, there was nothing in there. _Where was my key? _I thought, going back instantly into panic mode again.

"Looking for this?"

I jumped and my hand flew over my chest; my heart thumped wildly against my palm. I whipped around. Blaine stood behind me, tossing my key from hand to hand, leaning against the wall. It was odd because I hadn't seen him standing there only a few minutes earlier. I shook my head. He wore the basic Dalton flannel sweat pants and matching shirt, a pair of purple striped socks donning his feet. His hair, to my utter shock, wasn't flat like it always was: it was short and curly and dark brown. He looked like a different person out of uniform.

"Um, yes, actually, I am," I squeaked quietly and rubbed the back of my neck. My eyes were cast at the floor to avoid looking at him. Blaine chuckled once.

"You better stop dropping this thing." He held the metal up to the faint glow of the lamps in the hallway. "The school won't replace it."

"Did you find it on the floor?" I questioned. But it was safe in my pocket the entire time, wasn't it?

"Yeah," he said. "I came to ask you a history question for my essay, since you offered to help earlier, and I found it in front of your door. You didn't answer when I knocked, so I just waited for your car to show up again in the parking lot. You do realize that you can see the parking lot from the commons, right?" My face heated and it was sure to be more than beet red. "Where'd you go?"

"Coffee," I choked out and lifted my head. His expression told me he wasn't buying my excuse for late-night caffeine cravings. "Okay," I sighed. "You caught me. I went to see a friend."

"Mercedes?" he guessed. I nodded. "Well, you made it back before curfew, so I guess you're off the hook this time." He tossed me the room key. "Just get some sleep. Big day tomorrow. We're rehearsing our two picks for Nationals." He gave me a warm half smile and nodded, padding down the hallway.

"Blaine," I called at the last second as he turned the corner into the next hall. "Do you know who's singing the solo?"

He poked his head around the corner and it was still unbelievable to see him with curls. "No, I don't. We'll see."

I nodded. "I'll see you in the morning, then," I said, but he had already disappeared.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Wow, this is the second time I've posted on this story today! :D I hope all you Klaine shippers are enjoying yourselves. Some of you aren't, but don't worry: it gets so much better:) Just look forward in this chapter to a little surprise and Kurt stripping ;) Well, not in the way everyone would expect, though. You'll just have to read to find out!

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The next morning, I slept through my alarm with a terrible headache. It was similar to ten thousand little jackhammers pounding away at the inside of my skull. I practically had to drag myself down the hallway to my first class to avoid being late; it was not the best way to start off the day.

Class was difficult to concentrate on, mostly because of the migraine, but also because I was worrying about the solo constantly. It was the perfect time to show the Warblers what I could do, if they only gave me a chance . . .

At lunch, I rested my chin on my hand, ignoring the pizza wrap that sat in front of me on a paper tray. The next thing I knew Blaine was shaking my shoulder gently. My eyes fluttered open to reveal him sitting across the table with a worried expression.

"You okay, Kurt?" he asked as he picked up a plastic white fork and speared a piece of fruit cocktail. "You don't seem well."

"It's nothing," I said slowly and sat up a little straighter than I had been before. Suddenly the pizza wrap seemed unappetizing and it belonged in the trash can after a few minutes of just staring at it. I'd had migraines like this before, where it affected my eating habits as well as my focus. It wasn't so bad, as long as I had Advil or aspirin, which I oh-so-conveniently didn't think to take with me. I rummaged through my bag for the homework I needed to complete the night before and set it on the table.

"Kurt, isn't that due today?" Blaine asked and pointed his fork at the work. We had the same History teacher with the same essay due today; I shrugged and clicked my pen. "You really don't look well. Why don't you skip Warbler rehearsal today, to get better, you know? We're just rehearsing Train and the Plain White T's like we always do."

"Blaine," I said and tried a smile. "Do you really think that I, Kurt Hummel, would ever let a little headache get in the way of my fabulous singing abilities?"

"Well, Mr. Hummel," he said with his mouth full, "it seems you have put your blazer on backwards this morning, hm?"

"What?" I glanced down at myself, expecting to see brass buttons, but only navy fabric. I stood up, my face growing red, and took off my jacket to correct it as Blaine tried to stifle his laughing. "Point taken. But are you sure that's all we're doing in class? No solo auditions?"

"Nope." He popped the P. "Solo auditions are on Wednesday, Wes told me to tell you that. He says to bring any song and sing well." He stood up and tossed the remains of his lunch in the trash. "Seriously, go get some sleep. Glee is the last class and you've already gone through three." He patted my shoulder and picked up my bag for me.

"Thanks, Blaine," I said and covered my mouth with my hand as I yawned. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Sleep did well for me, especially because it gave me energy to punch and/or throw something. I had spent the last three days stuck in my room with a stomach virus and it was not pretty whatsoever. Now, I just wanted to crawl back into bed for the rest of my life.

"What do you mean solo auditions were _yesterday_?" I exclaimed to Wes and David before the rehearsal started. "Blaine told me they were today! He said to come early, with music!"

"Well, I don't know what date he was looking at," Wes said apologetically, "but it was yesterday. Half the club auditioned and it took forever. Blaine sung _Firework _by Katy Perry, if you wanted to know."

"Yes, because I really wanted to know what he sang at the solo auditions that I was completely misinformed about!" I tossed my bag on the sofa and placed my hands on the desk. "Seriously, there has got to be some exception you can make for me, right?"

"I'm sorry, Kurt," David said.

"Really sorry."

"But we're just cutting it too close to Nationals to switch soloists," David explained. "We can't risk losing to the New Directions because we switched."

"Are you saying if you switched to me, we'd lose?" I questioned and glared pointedly at them both.

"We're not saying that," David assured me quickly. "You're a great singer, Kurt, but we closed the auditions yesterday. We have a strict—"

"You always have a strict this, and a strict that!" I said loudly and turned around so my back faced them. "You need to stop being so fricking uptight all the time and let loose a little! Jeez!"

There was silence behind me and, for a moment, maybe it was the wrong thing to say if I wanted them on my side. But now there was something I figured out that was obvious. I didn't care anymore. Blaine could have the solo if he wanted it so bad. He stooped to such a low level to tell me the wrong audition day. And Wes and David were not the ones to take it out on.

"You know what?" I twirled around on my heels. "I don't care. Blaine can just have his freaking solo. I don't freaking care anymore." My hands touched the top button of my blazer and the two boys gave me weird glances as I undid each button, revealing the white dress shirt and tie underneath. I folded the blazer over my arm and loosened the tie to their horror.

"What are you doing?" Wes asked completely aghast.

"I think he's stripping," David whispered in his ear.

"No, you idiots," I snapped. I'd never felt this empowered before and I was enjoying every second of it. "I'm going to find Blaine." I plucked my bag from the floor and, with a sharp glare to them, I swept from the room.

First, change clothes. Second, find Blaine.

A sigh escaped my lips when I glanced at myself in the full-length mirror in my room. It was purely sensational to be able to wear my own clothes again. Black skinny jeans with knee-high boots and a blue sink button-up. It felt like _Rose's Turn _all over again with the silk sapphire scarf.

The boots added three inches to my 5'9" height and I nearly tripped in them as I walked briskly through the school. I hadn't worn them in so long, as they were replaced by the black penny loafers we were required to wear. My outfit caused many of the boys attending classes to stop in the hall and stare. Don't focus on them, just find Blaine.

The suspected culprit sat in the corner of the commons, fiddling with his iPhone. Earbuds were jammed in his ears and the volume was up so loud that it was audible to me. His eyes widened as he saw my outfit.

"Blaine," I said and he wrenched out one of the buds. "We need to talk. Now."

"What are you wearing?" he gasped as he pulled the other bud out and tucked the phone in his pocket. "Why aren't you in uniform?"

"Because, Blaine, I'm done with this. I know you sabotaged my chances at getting the solo for Nationals. I can sing just as well as you can and you just wanted to get rid of the competition, didn't you?"

Blaine sat there, his eyes locked on mine. The wheels were turning in his head, I could tell, as he put together everything.

"Your point?" he finally said. He didn't even try to deny it.

I let out a furious groan and he attempted to put one of the earbuds back in. Before he could I snatched his iPhone from his hand. He stood up and the chair nearly fell back; he caught it before it did.

"I'm sorry, but I'm angry with you, Blaine," I said reluctantly. I'd never thought I'd see the day when I was unhappy with him. "You told me the auditions were today before rehearsal, but they were _yesterday_! I was prepared to sing today, but Wes and David won't allow me to! You set me up so you could have the solo all to yourself!"

"I got the date wrong." He shrugged; his expression was almost smug and I pursed my lips.

"No, you didn't!" I argued. "You're just afraid that I would be chosen by popular vote to sing the solo, because you're a preppy _freak _who can't stay out of the spotlight, even if someone else is better than you!"

He reached over and pried his iPhone from my fingers. As he talked he undid the knot in the earbud chords. "Are you seriously saying that you're better than me? What world are you living in?"

"The same world you're in." I blinked my eyes to keep the sudden wetness back. If he saw me cry, there was no way he would ever let me live this down. It would tell him that I was a wimp, a coward, sensitive. "You're afraid, Blaine, you're afraid of someone outshining you."

"Yeah, right," he sat back down and straightened that stupid striped tie.

"You're a bully, too," I continued. "I thought you were the same Blaine who gave me courage, but you need it yourself. I thought leaving McKinley meant leaving the torment every day, the feeling of minority, but it's as though I never even left. None of my ideas are considered in class and all you do is steal the spotlight every single performance. I'm still ignored, and I'm still alone."

He only stared at me, swinging the earbuds around in a circle in the air. "Two of the songs we're singing for _Nationals _are the songs you suggested, by the way. And you're really overreacting, Kurt. It's not a big deal."

"Are you saying Nationals isn't a big deal?" This was surely not the same Blaine that gave me the courage to confront Karofsky, even if it did have a momentous outcome. Which was the real one? "Because any performance is a big deal, Blaine."

"No, I'm saying the solo isn't a big deal," he corrected sharply. Thank goodness no one was in the commons, because I was sure our voices were rising with every word.

"Then give it to me, if you think it isn't such a big deal!"

"No! I earned it!"

"Because you tricked me!"

"That's a lie!"

"Hey! What's going on in here?"

Both our heads whipped around to see Wes and David standing in the doorway of the commons, their faces red and horror-struck. They looked like they had walked in on a scene from Stephen King's movie _It. _

"What are you two arguing about?" Wes finally asked after a lengthy silence. "Rehearsal is starting and we can hear you two from down the hall! Are you trying to kill each other?"

"You sounded like you were having sex or something," David muttered, which earned three disgusted looks. There was no way I would even come within a mile radius of Blaine now, let alone . . . you know what I mean. I shuddered.

"What he means is, you were talking very, _very _loudly," Wes clarified. "What's going on? Why are you arguing?"

"Give me that damn solo!" I burst out before Blaine had the chance to offer what was sure to be another lie.

"You didn't show up yesterday, though," David said again. He and Wes walked into the room and closed the thick set of double doors behind them. "So we couldn't really count you as an entry."

"But you've got to understand this, boys," I said and placed my hand on my hip, standing so I was directly in front of Blaine. I tried to hold back the smile as he probably glared at the back of my head. "Mr. Spotlight here gave me the wrong date. Sure, I was a little under the weather, but I could've sung. I could've had laryngitis and sung better than him. He told me the audition was today when he knew I was feeling like shit and went in to audition himself. He's an obnoxious bitch who wants everything for himself."

Wes looked up at David, as he was shorter by a few inches, and they shared a silent conversation with their eyes. What were they deciding? Were they going to give me the solo instead of Blaine? But they would ask for proof, wouldn't they? Blaine was quiet behind me.

"You know what?" A few minutes of dead silence had gone by and it pounded too hard against my head, still sore from the migraine. "Just let him keep it. I don't care anymore. We'll just be the predictable Warblers, Blaine our front and center man. I'll just sway in the background, just like at Sectionals. I don't care."

With a final death glare at Blaine, hoping to send the hateful message to him or possibly rupture a few brain cells, I brushed past Wes and David and let the large set of double doors close loudly as I stormed into the hallway.

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**_Oooooh, conflict! What will happen between Kurt and Blaine now? Just fyi, the next chapter skips to the day they leave for Nationals, so the pair spend about two to three weeks avoiding each other. Any questions? Ask in the reviews!_**


	4. Chapter 4

**_I am so in love with this chapter, you have no clue. This is my favorite chapter I've written for this story BY FAR. BY FREAKING FAR. This chapter was purely inspired by my band trip to San Antonio, in which one of my friends and I were ticked off with each other and did a few things to upset the other. We made up by the end of the second day, but it was sure fun to randomly open the bathroom door while Taylor was taking a shower... *evil grin* And, when they arrive at the hotel, David's actions remind me of one of the boys in the band. Again, this chapter was purely inspired by almost everything on my band trip in October. Enjoy!

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"Alright, everyone! Do we all have what we need for the trip?" Wes called for the umpteenth time in the last twenty minutes. He held a checklist in his hands along with a pen.

Today we were leaving for Nationals. The choir room was crowded with Warblers and several suitcases and duffle bags. We donned regular clothes for the hour-long plane ride and our uniforms were for the night of the big performance. It was odd to see everyone wearing jeans or khakis with t-shirts. As much as I tried to not notice it, Blaine wore an emerald green Wicked shirt. Damn him, for wearing memorabilia from my favorite musical.

Wes kept bringing his hand up to his neck in attempt to straighten the nonexistent tie around his throat and he was uncomfortable without his uniform. David, however, was better off. He looked better in jeans than his black Dalton slacks; he was busy checking and rechecking his two bags.

Finally, after thirty more unbearable minutes sitting across the room from Blaine, we packed up our belongings and boarded the school bus that would take us to the airport. As soon as I sat down in the first seat, I pulled out my iPod and blasted music from Annie until we arrived at the airport.

On the bus, Blaine sat across the aisle from me. In getting off the bus, I was in line behind Blaine. When we stood in line at security, Blaine was behind me, talking to Wes. Was Fate trying to kill me by forcing us together in any way possible?

The plane trip was far worse than standing in line, hearing Blaine's voice in my ear for twenty minutes. I chose a row in the back with David, since he apparently was siding with me in the "solo war" between Blaine and I. Then said-soloist and Wes plopped down in front of us. The only thing I could do to keeping Blaine's voice out of my head was to listen to The Gypsy on full volume for the entire hour. He kept poking his head over the seat to talk to David and every time he did, it intensified my urge to punch him in the face.

Thankfully, the urge was curbed until the plane touched down an hour later in New York. Forgetting Blaine was in the seat in front of me, I glanced at the window. Hopefully we'd have free time to explore the city. There were so many stores I needed to visit with a full wallet; I expected to leave this trip with a Nationals win, an empty wallet, and ten shopping bags.

A crowded highway in New York in a charter bus was not the best place to be if your best-friend-turned-enemy sat ten feet from you, talking so loud people in China could hear.

"Seriously," David muttered so Blaine wouldn't hear, "make up already. I'm getting tired of seeing you two not talk."

"Really. I thought you would've been grateful we weren't talking," I snapped and crossed my arms. "Wes told me Blaine annoys you."

"It's really the other way around," he explained. "He actually threatened to lock me in a closet for three days because I hid his song book."

"Song book?" It wasn't a familiar term. From what I knew we didn't use song books at Dalton, only individual sheets of music.

"Yeah, it's this ten million page book filled with songs from one hundred different musicals, or something." David chuckled. "I think he sleeps with it under his pillow sometimes, he loves it so much."

As if realizing we were talking about him, Blaine paused his conversation with Wes to peek over at us; I snapped my eyes back to David. Also apparently, Wes was siding with Blaine in the "solo war".

"What musicals are in the book?" I asked with my voice low.

"_Sound of Music, Wicked, The Gypsy, Annie,_" David named off and it surprised me that he remembered all these productions. "All that good stuff. His favorite one is _Wicked _though. He has it bookmarked."

"So, where did you hide it, exactly?" I asked curiously.

"Okay, so you know that loose floorboard on the second floor by the window that looks out over the parking lot?"

"Sort of." No, not at all.

"That's where I hid it. He couldn't find it for weeks and he was completely freaking out. He actually skipped rehearsal for a week and a half straight to look for it. I caught part of it on video, actually. It was hilarious; I'll show you when we get back to Dalton."

I nodded. If Blaine and I were still under a code of silence by the end of Nationals, I'd have to save that video for future reference. But of course, he could whip out my _Le Jazz Hot _video in retaliation. Damn you, Rachel Berry.

After forty-five minutes of talking with David in hushed tones, the charter bus pulled up to the hotel we were staying at, the Double Tree. We grabbed our carry-on bags and fished our suitcases from the belly of the bus before checking in at the front desk.

The hotel reminded me of Dalton, with its polished floors and clean atmosphere. The counters were made from sparkly granite and the floors were solid white marble. A bellhop stood by the revolving doorway with a suitcase cart. David abandoned his bags to leap onto the cart and cry,

"Wes, push me!"

I was the only one laughing. Blaine and Wes just watched him make a fool of himself. Even the bellhop gave him a glare and ordered him off. It was a shame we weren't sharing a hotel room. My heart dropped into my stomach. I was sharing the room with Blaine. We had set up the room arrangements before the whole "solo war" and it was too much trouble to ask someone to switch.

"Kurt." It was Blaine's voice. "I've got the room key. Come on." His tone didn't sound excited or upset. It was just normal Blaine.

The Warblers piled into the three elevators near the main desk and we all found our separate rooms, but not before Wes made sure everyone was clear on what time we would meet the next morning. Tomorrow was a free day, but the day after was Nationals. The third day was just to take one last look at the city before we had to fly back to Ohio for class.

I sighed as I followed Blaine down the hall as we stepped out of the elevator. He glanced from side to side to find the correct the room number. When he did, he slid the little plastic room key into the box on the door handle and three little lights flashed bright green. Blaine tucked the key in his pocket and pushed into the room.

The room held two individual beds, to my relief, covered in thick white sheets and comforters. The bathroom met my standards with a large bowl sink, a toilet, and a large shower; on the vanity was a small coffee maker with packets of ground coffee. Across from the beds there was a large black media cabinet with a flat screen television on its top. There was even a desk for our laptops.

"Well, this is nice," Blaine said as he parked his suitcase by the bed closest to the door; he tossed his messenger bag on the floor. "Isn't it?"

"Just lovely." I didn't dare to look at him. I just set my things down and excused myself to take the first shower.

The next two hours was hell as Blaine tried to make small talk with me as completed my moisturizing routine or changed into sweats to sleep in. It didn't work. After his shower, his hair was damp and curly, hanging down in front of his eyes. To keep from brushing the hair back, I stared at my reflection in the mirror and grabbed my toothbrush.

Things didn't go well with one sink and two angry boys, I recognized, as I prepared to spit after brushing my teeth. Blaine had bent in front of the sink a second before I did and my minty spit landed on the back of his neck. I gasped and covered my mouth with my hand and Blaine stood up fully.

"Okay," he said through gritted teeth, "just because I apparently took your solo doesn't mean you're allowed to spit on my neck!"

"You were in the way," I suggested lightly and bumped him gently aside with my hip to rinse my mouth and put my toothbrush away. He stared at me, realizing I was playing the ignorance card on him, the same way he did to me two weeks earlier.

"I'm going to bed," he grumbled and brushed past me out of the bathroom. "I'll see you in the morning." I couldn't help but watch the mirror mimic my Cheshire cat grin.

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**_Did you enjoy? Reviews are welcome!_**


	5. Chapter 5

**_Hello again, wonderful readers! Here is yet another chapter for To Be Honest. In this chapter, Kurt gets a little taste of his own medicine in several different ways, Blaine tries to be adorable and Wes and David are . . . well, Wes and David! Enjoy!

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The night was horrible. Blaine snored softly from the moment he hit the bed until the alarm on my phone rang at seven. I barely got any sleep because of him. He kept tossing and turning and who knew he talked in his sleep? He talked about politics and a little about me once or twice, and even mumbled a few verses from Teenage Dream.

Annoyed with the lack of sleep, I sprung out of bed and grabbed a change of clothes. I passed his bed on the way to the bathroom. The clock on the nightstand was set, I realized. A little prank wouldn't hurt him, would it? It was a free day today, anyway. The clock was silent as I changed his alarm time from eight in the morning to ten. From many experiences with him sleeping in my room or vice versa, I knew he would probably sleep forever unless someone or something woke him up.

Another idea fumed in my mind, and I objected to it at first, but it wouldn't hurt him a bit. I quickly changed into a pair of white jeans and a red button with up my famous knee high black lace boots; then I fished around in Blaine's blazer for the single room key. He was still snoring, a pillow thrown over his head. I bit my lip. With this point of innocence, he looked quite cute . . . Wait, what was I saying? Just because he was gay didn't mean I had to think he was cute. Sure, he was cute and just so happened to be gay, but those two things didn't make me have to like him. Plus, he took my solo. With a huff, I pulled myself out of the room.

The Warblers were assembled in the parlor when I arrived, all in normal attire. David smiled at me as I approached him and Wes.

"How was last night?" he asked and raised his eyebrows.

"The way you asked that question made it sound like we had sex," I said, frightened. "Which we didn't!" I added hastily when I saw Wes' face.

"Did you annoy the hell out of him?" Wes asked to get onto a different topic.

David glanced around. "Speaking of, where is he?"

"Oh, after I spit on him, I just set his alarm clock back two hours," I replied giddily and examined my cuticles. "He'll be waking up in about two hours with no room key and the shower on the fritz."

"What'd you do to the shower?" Wes asked and both their eyes widened. Even though Wes had appeared on Blaine's side of the war, he seemed genuinely interested in my plan of sabotage.

I smiled as I recalled what I'd done to the shower just after Blaine had gone to bed. Just a little tinkering with the faucet head and the temperature knob would drive him nuts. If he tried to turn on the shower in the first place, it wouldn't turn on. Then, if he tried to fix it, it would explode in cold water. When it got to cold water, you couldn't move it back to hot water.

Wes bit his lip to avoid saying anything while David couldn't stop laughing. Wes instead called the group to order, explaining where we could go within a twenty mile radius, just so long as we didn't get caught in the snow that had just started to fall lightly. We had to be back by six o'clock for a group dinner and a short dress rehearsal. The Warblers then split into groups of four or more, each with a cell phone and money. I immediately added Wes and David to my group.

"Well, boys," I said and placed my hands on my hips. "I am going to show you two the art of dressing, well . . . not like you are now."

"Kurt!"

I had barely answered the phone when Blaine's voice roared through the receiver. I shuffled the shopping bags around until I had a free one and sat down in a velvet chair by the changing rooms. David, Wes, and I were in a Marc Jacobs store; David was currently trying to wear a beret successfully.

"Oh, good morning, Blaine," I greeted nicely. "How are you? Did you sleep well?"

"Don't sweet talk me, Hummel," he growled. "I knew you set my alarm clock back two hours."

I held the phone away to laugh for a moment. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. I just changed and left to meet the Warblers."

"And you took the room key," he added angrily.

"Yes, I did," I agreed. "Did you see what happened to the shower, too?"

"Shit, what'd you do to it?" There was the sound of his feet against the carpet and then the bathroom door sliding open. A few seconds passed as Blaine tinkered with the faucet and knob. Water gurgled and Blaine shrieked, the phone landing face down on the tile.

"Fix it!" he shouted and I could hear him clearly.

"I'm not there right now," I said pointedly.

"You don't know how much I hate you right now," he snarled after he picked up the phone again.

"Oh, Blaine," I sighed as I watched Wes and David hold up different colored v-necks to each other, "hate is such a strong word."

"Then I fucking dislike you with a fiery burning passion."

"Better."

"Where are you?"

"Where do you think? It's New York, hon," I retorted.

"Okay, okay, give me the directions to the Mall of America and I'll be there in half an hour," he sighed and fabric rustled as he gathered clothes.

"We're in New York. The Mall of America is in Minnesota," I reminded him. "It's tacky, anyway. Wes and David are with me in the Marc Jacobs outlet, if you're wondering."

"Whatever. Just give me the damn directions already."

After I rambled off the instructions I hung up. I was surprised he hadn't thought to ask whether they were correct or not.

The two Warblers and I searched around the store, adding things to my growing shopping list. Wes had to hold my two bags from Dolce and Gabanna so I could carry the things I planned to try on as soon as Blaine arrived. For twenty minutes I added half my closet to the load. Then Blaine walked into the store. His expression was grim and his hair stuck out oddly in the back.

"Did you not brush your hair or something?" Wes asked as he noticed the large cowlick in the back.

"I bet Kurt did something to my brush," he immediately said and his eyes were very unfriendly.

I set down the satin yellow scarf I was hiding and laughed slightly. "That was about the one thing I didn't do."

"Are you sure? Because it had your hairspray all over it," Blaine explained. "I realized it when I set the brush down."

"That's probably because you used my hair brush," I said with disgust. Next on my shopping list: new brush. Blaine's expression matched mine and he grabbed a hat from the rack to his right, throwing it on his head to cover the messed up hair.

"Nice fedora. Blue looks good on you," I commented. As I turned back to the scarves, I caught a glimpse of a small smile that was the old Blaine. The old Blaine had a smile that was warm and carefree. But he didn't exist anymore. He was new, bitchy and definitely not carefree. It was going to be a long day.

"David?" I called over the changing room door. We were currently at an Alexander McQueen outlet, but not before five or six other stores. There was a large mound of shopping bags outside the changing room I was in. I sighed and glanced at my reflection as I waited for David's response. I donned a slimming pair of crimson jeans and black t-shirt, coated in silver glitter. "David?"

I pulled the door open a crack and peered out into the store. The three boys were not in sight. With the price tags fluttering from the shirt and jeans, I walked up to the cashier and asked if she'd seen three horribly dressed boys in jeans anywhere. When she said they had left half an hour ago I ground my teeth and hurried back to my things. All the shopping bags were still there, but my messenger bag was missing, which held my wallet and the room key. Well, there went that new pair of jeans.

I gained several strange glances as I maneuvered seven large bags filled with clothes to the front of the store. They all fell to the floor; the road was barely visible through the massive amount of snow. The glass door budged open and a woman popped in, her hair covered in flakes of white. The wind rushed in and it was like getting a slushie facial all over again, cold and unwanted. Grabbing the bags again, I braced myself for the cold air and brutal snow.

Thirty minutes of trudging through the snow-covered sidewalks and getting lost twice was how long it took to find my way back to the hotel. I was covered from head to toe in white frost and some of it melted and drenched my clothes. My teeth chattered so loud it echoed in my head and my fingers had lost feeling well after the first ten minutes. The hotel was warm and inviting and pleasant. Blaine was pulling the revenge card and I would make sure to have the last say in it.

The bags in my hands dragged across the marble floor to the elevator and I sighed when no one was in it. I clicked the button with the number seven on it and leaned against the railing. All the clothes I'd bought today were most likely soaked through, along with me. The snow that had landed on my hair was water now and it dripped down my forehead and nose.

The elevator dinged to a stop and I grabbed the bags, slowly walking down the hall. As soon as I got to my room, I banged my fist on the door three times. There were a few snickers from behind the door and I knocked louder.

"Who is it?" a voice asked in a sing-songy tone.

"Blaine, don't fuck with me," I hissed. "Open the door right this second, or I swear—"

"What's the magic word?"

"Blaine—"

The door fell open. Blaine was dressed in a comfy pair of sweats and a hoodie, a cup of coffee in his hands. "All you had to say was please," he said and shrugged. "What happened to you?"

I pushed angrily past him and tossed my shopping bags on my bed. Wes and David sat on Blaine's, sipping on their own coffee while the television played a Christmas movie on silent.

"What happened to me?" I asked shrilly. "What happened to me? Well, for starters, you abandon me in Alexander McQueen and leave me to walk half an hour in the freaking blizzard outside! And you steal my bag and the room key so I couldn't get back in unless you were here! Do you know it's well past freezing out there?" I drew back the curtains on the windows to see the glass pure white and icy to the touch.

"Well," Blaine said and set down his coffee on the night stand, "come give me a hug and you'll be warm." He started toward me with his arms outstretched.

"Ah, ah, no, no!" I squeaked and moved away. I pressed my hand to his forehead to keep him literally at arm's length. "There is no way you are giving me a hug. I'm freaking pissed at you, why would I let you give me a hug?"

"Because I'm irresistible," Blaine said indefinitely and squirmed around.

"No, you're not. Stop acting stupid." I moved my hand and he stumbled forward. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a long hot shower to revise some of my frozen muscles." I grabbed my own sweats into the bathroom with me and turned on the faucet, but not before I realized it was still jacked. The three boys let out explosive laughter when I shrieked.

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**_A very important note! I'm going to be out of town for the holidays and won't be able to post much until we get back in town where there's internet, so I'm open to fanfic requests! Send me any characters from Glee (two or more would be amazing, or just a personal one for a single character) and I'll write a one-shot about them! Add any storyline specifics if desired (i.e. Quinn and Kurt have a heartfelt talk for once, Puck and Sam discuss Quinn's love life, Rachel and Blaine go bowling, etc.) or just tell me, "write one about Sam and Rachel" and I'll try to make something up. Send me a message to request!_**

**_PLEASE NOTE: If your idea for a story is disturbing to me beyond explanation, I WILL NOT write it! I DO write not-so-revealing lemons, heartfelt scenes, and song fics. I leave on the 23rd (next Thursday) so get in requests before then!_**


	6. Chapter 6

**_Hello again, lovely readers. I almost forgot. I DON'T own Glee, or Blaine or Kurt Hummel, though I wish I did. So, there's a disclaimer. Almost forgot about that. Now, enjoy this next chapter! Reviews would be amazing!

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After my eventful shower, in which I had to tinker with the faucet again for twenty minutes, I stormed to the parlor of the hotel, Blaine, Wes, and David hot on my heels. After my shower, not during, I realized purple dye somehow managed to mix with my designer shampoo and viola. I had purple hair instead of chestnut brown. David was still snickering about my violet hair, Wes did nothing, and Blaine was trying to keep up with my, apologizing the entire way.

"Look, I didn't know it was in there," he was saying as we passed the front desk. "I didn't mean for your hair to turn purple, okay?"

"Yeah, right, just like you didn't mean to leave me at Alexander McQueen in the middle of a blizzard," I snapped and continued to the show room, where a set of risers were positioned. We were self independent, meaning no director, but Wes usually took care of us. The rest of the Warblers were already setting up and their eyes flew to me when they noticed my odd hair color.

"What happened to your—" one of the boys, Liam, started.

"Don't even," I said fiercely and the rehearsal began.

The Rhythm of Love and Drops of Jupiter went well, just like always. Blaine sung the lead with the rest of us backing him up, just like always. After a few tinkering with the songs, Blaine moved on to sing his solo. Just. Like. Always. My ears were going to bleed, considering how many times I'd heard Bruno Mars' Just the Way You Are. Sure, it was just lovely when Finn sung it at our parents' wedding, but now, in Blaine's voice, it was getting a little repetitive and boring. He sung it the same way every time, with the little cadenza at the end. It was starting to get on my last nerve.

That's why, when Wes officially dismissed us for a good night's sleep, I stood up and left the room. The doors closed behind me with a soft thud and the only sound I could hear was the sound of my shoes clicking against the marble. I got as far as the bathrooms before I made a detour and pushed the door open. The mirrors showed my eyes, red and puffy, and until then I didn't know I was tearing up. I tucked my face in my hands. Something touched my shoulder and I jumped.

"Hey, Kurt, why are you crying?" a voice asked.

I brought my face out of my hands and saw him in the mirror. Sniffing, I turned and lunged forward into the embrace of my step-brother. His shirt smelled like our room at home and it gave me a sense of sickness in my stomach. He was really here, and he was who I really needed to talk to. His hands pressed against my back to support the sudden hug.

"What are you doing here?" I whined against his shirt.

"The same reason you're here," Finn explained and patted my shoulder, gently pulling himself away. "And Mr. Schue just so happened to book the same hotel as you guys."

I bit my lip and smiled. "I'm so happy to see you here, Finn."

"What happened?" he asked, concerned about the tear tracks staining my face. "And why is your hair purple?"

"Never mind that. Things aren't well at Dalton."

From there, he forced the rest of the story out of me as we stood in the bathroom, gazing at our reflections in the shiny mirrors. Finn listened to every word I said, nodding at the right times and handing me paper towels from the automated dispenser on the wall. It was terrible, trying not to cry, but the tears spilled onto my cheeks and I was a mess.

"That's not good to hear," my step-brother said as I settled into silence. "If you're not happy at Dalton, why stay there? We're kind of a wreck at McKinley. We need you back, Kurt. Rachel is being a bitch, and Mercedes isn't herself, and—"

"Why are you saying bad things about Rachel?" I questioned. Her face, with her big brown eyes and shiny hair, came to mind. "Aren't you two dating?"

"We broke up," he said shortly and crossed his arms. "What I'm saying here is that, if you're not happy where you are, come back."

"I can't come back," I hissed and took a breath to calm down. "Karofsky will punch the shit out of me. You don't see how he reacts when I'm around compared to other nerds. You don't see what's going on in his little pea brain of his."

"What do you mean by that?"

Dammit. I could just see Karofsky, in the later future, punching my face in for telling his secret when he found out. I took a deep breath to keep the tremor out of my voice.

"Finn, Karofsky's—"

The door swooshed open and there came a chorus of, "Kurt! Thank goodness, we've been looking for you everywhere!" Wes and David stood in the doorway, gazing at me with matching worried expressions. "Well, Blaine's been looking for you, especially."

"Hey," Finn said and stepped in front of me. I swear, both their eyes grew wide as they took in how tall he was. "I'm trying to have a decent conversation with my step-brother, if you don't mind."

"Finn," I said and put my hand on his arm. "They're from Dalton. They're okay; they're not the ones causing the problem." He glanced back at me with pleading eyes, shining with confusion. "I have to go, apparently. I'm sorry. I'll see you tomorrow at the competition. Good luck."

I brushed past him and joined Wes and David. They both looked back at Finn before ushering me out of the bathroom and into an open elevator. I glanced down at my shoes as the doors slid shut.

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"Where were you?" Blaine snapped as he yanked open the door. "Why'd you run out on us like that?"

"Chill, dude," Wes spoke in a monotone voice and let me go into the room, my head still down; I sat down on my bed and curled against the headboard, my forehead pressed against my knees. "He's had a rough twenty minutes." David nodded in silent agreement. "We'll see you both tomorrow at breakfast."

The door closed and that was the only noise for the next five minutes. Finally, he spoke.

"I guess you're not going to tell me anything."

I shook my head. "You wouldn't understand," I mumbled loud enough for him to hear.

"Is it about me?"

Silence.

"If it's about the solo, I'm sorry, Kurt." The mattress sunk a little as he sat at the foot of the bed.

"It's much more than the solo, Blaine. I thought you of all people would realize that after everything." He was the one I was completely in love with, yet Fate _had _to morph him into a jerk. The way he acted made it hard for me to love him. He didn't know anything, and I came to that decision now.

"After what?"

That did it for me. Sniffing tremendously, I slid off the bed and moved to my suitcase. Blaine watched me with curiosity as I tightly folded all of my clothes and zipped the luggage. "What are you doing?" My only response was to gather my toiletries from the bathroom and the shopping bags in the closet. As I moved back to grab my messenger bag, he caught my arm. "Where are you going?" he repeated and this time his voice was weak and soft and vulnerable, like he was going to cry, too.

The tears came again when he asked, "Are you leaving?"

I nodded quickly and tore away to sling my bag over my shoulder and grab my suitcase. His dark brown eyes watched me as I trudged to the door. The shopping bags were either stuffed forcefully into my suitcase, in my messenger bag, or held in my hands. The wetness on my face burned my eyes and it was hard to look up at him as I struggled to open the door. With full hands I dug out my phone and held it up.

"When the old Blaine comes back," I said, my voice thick and worn down, "tell him to call."

The door shut behind me and I stood in the quiet hallway, listening to the buzz of the ice machine.

**_Ugh, shortish chapter, but that's how I wrote it. Reviews? If I get a few nice ones, I might post tomorrow :)_**


	7. Chapter 7

**_My god, this chapter is insanely long. Actually it's just two chapters blended together, but still. It's long. Be prepared. I don't own glee, just fyi. Enjoy! Oh, did I mention that this is the last chapter before the epilogue?

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The next morning, at nine, Wes nudged me awake. I rolled over and pried my eyes open. David sat on his bed, chewing thoughtfully on a blueberry muffin while clicking through channels on the television. Wes handed me a cold glass bottle filled with a light brown liquid and a raspberry croissant.

"Have you ever had an iced frappuccino?" he asked and sat down on the bed with David.

"I love you," I said as I sat up immediately and unscrewed the cap from the coffee drink. It was cool and smooth on my throat, which was still raw from the night before. I winced at the memory. Blaine's kicked-puppy face was still etched in my mind, even as I had asked Wes and David to spend the night last night.

"That's not creepy," David said and swallowed a bite of his muffin.

I rolled my eyes. "You know what I mean."

"Call time is in two hours," Wes reported and stole the remote control from David. "Which means, two hours for you to do your little fancy getting-ready routine, another bite to eat, a quick run through and then we get going. Big day, huh?"

"Again, I love you," I said and bit off a little of the flavored pastry. It was sweet on my tongue compared to the foul words I'd spoken this entire trip. What a wonderful change. "And thank you, both, for allowing me to invade your room for the night. If I'd spent the night with Blaine, we wouldn't have our leading man today."

"Anything to keep you both happy and away from each other's throats," David said happily and wrestled Wes for the remote. Wes wanted to watch the Science Channel while there was a movie David wanted to watch. As Wes put David in a headlock, I brought my drink over to the window with me and watched the cars whizz by on the street below. The snow was lightly falling now, not like it had been yesterday. It was the spitting image of those perfect snowy scenes in Christmas movies where the two main characters would make their momentous meeting, or where a problem was resolved with a kiss and the rolling of the credits.

There was shout, a thud, and I yelled, "Stop fighting! Do I _need _to call the SWAT team?"

"Blaine _was _right, David," Wes muttered as he and David tried to wiggle apart, as they'd fallen off the bed in the quest for the remote. "He is—"

"I'm right here, you know," I said loudly and sat down on the bed again, finishing off the croissant and watching them with a close eye. "Now, what did Blaine say about me? Because I'm curious."

"Blaine, uh, compared you and him to a married couple," David said awkwardly and untangled himself from Wes. "He told us he was always fighting with you."

"Well." That was uncomfortable. "I guess we're divorced now. I'll keep my last name. And I want my Wicked soundtrack CD back." This gained a few chuckles from the boys and I left them for the bathroom, red faced, to begin my competition routine.

"Oh, hey, Kurt," Wes called and I peeked my head back into the room. "There's a bottle of hair dye remover in my bag, the blue one, to get the purple out."

"I didn't even know that existed," I stated and eyed a little clear bottle peeking out from the blue bag on the vanity. "Why did you bring it with you?"

"No reason," he drawled and snapped his eyes to David. "No reason at all."

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"You're going to do fine, Kurt, don't worry," Wes said confidently as we strode down the white marble floors to the showroom for our quick dress rehearsal. The two hours we had since I'd woken up had gone by so quickly, it seemed like a dream. One minute I was in the bathroom, organizing Wes' and David's things out of nervous habit and getting the violet out of my hair, and next, we were preparing for a national contest. The elevator dinged as we passed it. The doors slid open and a voice squealed,

"Kurt!"

The two Warblers and I whipped around at the mention of my name and I barely had time to blink before Rachel Berry flung herself at me, her arms locking around my neck.

"Why, hello, Rachel," I greeted breathlessly as soon as she broke her bone-crushing hug and looked up at me with a dazzling smile. "How are you?"

"Oh, Kurt, it's so good to see you!" she said excitedly instead. Who was this girl? This certainly wasn't Rachel, the Rachel who dueled against me to sing Defying Gravity, or the Rachel who tried to take over Glee club when Mr. Schue was out sick. "We've missed you so much!"

"Are you okay? Are you on any new medications or anything?" I had to ask. "You don't seem . . . yourself."

"Oh, I'm myself, alright," she said confidently, "I'm just pumped for today, that's all. Of course, you all can understand." She gestured to Wes and David. "Hello, I'm Rachel Berry. You must be Kurt's Warbler friends, correct?"

Poor Wes and David, I thought, as Rachel brushed past me to greet them with a firm hand shake and a lengthy greeting speech. Their expressions made me giggle inwardly. By the way they acted so surprised, they might as well have been electrocuted.

"Where are the others?" I asked her as soon as she stopped bombarding the boys to take a breath.

"They're all getting ready," she explained and straightened the large green bow that was placed in her dark hair. Mercedes or Tina designed the girls' Nationals outfit, most likely, as the dresses were emerald green with a black sash and polka dots; only Mercedes liked that shade of green and Tina was the only fan of polka dots. It made me wonder what the boys were wearing; I shuddered. "Even Mr. Schue. Do you have time to stay? I'm sure they'll be down here in a minute." She peeked back at the elevators hopefully. "You don't know how much it would mean to everyone just to say hi—"

"I've got to go, Rachel," I interrupted after Wes gave me a stern look that meant 'places to be, people to see, let's move.' Her reaction was similar to Blaine's kicked-puppy look and I said, "But I'll see you at the competition, okay?"

She nodded and watched as David took my arm and guided me away from her. The rest of the Warblers were already set up in the showroom, straightening each other's ties and rebuttoning blazers and fixing hair. Blaine was nowhere to be seen. David and I took a seat on the risers.

"Alright, boys," Wes said at the front, loud and proud, "we've got a big two hours ahead of us! It'll take forty-five minutes to get to Washington High School, where we'll be performing. The competition will last about thirty minutes, the results will be announced, we take the trophy with Warbler pride and come back here for lunch." The boys around us gave whoops and hollers and with every word Wes said from that point only got us more energized for what was to come.

What would life be like in two hours? Would we win? Lose? Feel happy? Sad? It was almost impossible to imagine that the world would continue on after Nationals ended. My heart thumped loudly in my chest just thinking about it. It was a fifty-fifty chance that we would win, or that we would lose. Oh, goodness . . .

"Sorry I'm late," Blaine muttered as he slipped in through the doors and sat down on David's right, away from me. Wes nodded to him and continued to talk. From around David, I saw that Blaine didn't look well. His face was sickly pale and there were slight purple smudges under his eyes from lack of sleep. His tie was a little messed up and his hair wasn't slicked back: there were slight curls everywhere and this, somehow, made him look more like the old Blaine, friendly and kind. He glanced up at me then and I snapped my head down, embarrassed.

"Okay," Wes said, "any questions?"

No hands raised and we loaded onto the charter bus that waited outside the hotel for us. I was the first one on, choosing the first seat behind the driver. I pressed my face to the glass as the New Directions slowly trickled through the front doors outside. There was Rachel, and Mercedes, and Sam and Quinn and Puck and Tina and everyone else. My face puckered when I saw the black slacks and emerald green shirts the boys wore to match the girls' dresses. It was so original. If only the Warblers let me organize their performance ensembles . . .

"May I sit here?" Blaine asked, jogging me back to the present. His face was still drained of color and I nodded only out of pity. He sat down and sighed.

"Your hair's different," I noticed.

"Didn't have time to fix it," he mumbled and leaned his forehead on the back of the seat in front of us

"It looks nice the way it is."

He peeked up at me. "Thanks."

"Listen, Blaine, I'm—"

"I don't want to talk," he interrupted. "No offense, or anything. Just . . . tired."

The engine growled to life and the bus lurched forward onto the road. Chatter ensued behind us, all the way in the back. There was a movie playing on the small screens, one I didn't recognize. Blaine and I were silent for a few minutes. The few minutes turned into forty-five, as we didn't talk for the rest of the ride. If he didn't want to talk, then so be it. It would probably be about his solo if he did.

It was a quiet ride, despite the boys practically yelling in the back to one another. So much for a disciplined boys' choir . . . The city around us slowly faded to little buildings here and there and then it was flat grass and highway. We stayed at a constant speed on smooth pavement until compacted neighborhoods began to show up. Soon after, we pulled into Washington High School. The bus pulled up to the drop-off lane and we got off in single file. We entered the school in single file, as well, and waited for Wes to check us in. He almost danced back to us with a grin on his face.

"We're up first," he reported. "Then the New Directions." The way he glanced at me made it feel like he was talking only to me and not the entire group. "We go on in half an hour and they told us to go backstage now."

We all nodded slightly and he and David led the way through the mobs of people surrounding the auditorium entrance. As we walked, every little moment of contact with Blaine, whether it be bumping shoulders or touching hands, sent a chill up my spine. An administrator ushered us backstage, where the only light came from the spotlights on stage. Behind the thick velvet curtains it was black and filled with shadows.

"Okay, boys," David said giddily. "This is what we've been preparing weeks for. We've got the best singers, I know we do. We can beat the New Directions if we just stay focused. We're all prepared, we know where to move and when, what chords to sing and the words that go along with them. We can do this."

His words left everyone breathless and for twenty minutes, we couldn't do anything more than hum scales to ourselves. With every passing minute, my heart rate increased to the point where I thought I'd pass out. People were beginning to fill the auditorium and their voices floated backstage, only fraying my nerves. Wes bumped my shoulder in a friendly way and I smiled. We had prepared so long for this. I wasn't going to let this conflict with Blaine get in the way. The microphone adjusted and the room filled with a man's voice.

Then Wes directed us onto the risers, where we made little fixes here and there, as the man talked. It was similar to the layout of Hey, Soul Sister, in which I stood behind Blaine and to his left. The curtains in front of us were dark crimson and the breeze from the air conditioning gently blew at the gap between the two pieces of fabric. It allowed me to see glimpses of the audience, including the New Directions sitting together. Mr. Schue didn't look pleased, from what I could see.

"And now," the announcer said in a booming voice, "in Nationals competition, I give you our first contestants, the Dalton Academy Warblers, from Westerville, Ohio!"

As soon as the curtain parted quickly, there was a gentle roar of applause to greet us. The spotlight shot on, nearly blinding everyone, and the music track began. Just the sound of the piano in the first seconds of the song was enough to give me goose bumps.

"Now that she's back in atmosphere," Blaine sang softly as we hummed, "with drops of Jupiter in her hair." The rest of the Warblers' humming grew louder until it was a constant volume.

_She acts like summer and walks like rain, reminds me that there's time to change, hey, hey, hey. _

_Since her return from her stay on the moon, she listens like spring and she talks like June, hey, hey, hey._

_Tell me, did you sail across the sun? _

_Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded, and that heaven is overrated?_

_Tell me, did you fall for a shooting star, one without a permanent scar,_

_And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?_

With the dazzle of the lights and the song and the dancing, I could barely see straight. We were all so caught up in the moment, just singing our hearts out, and I was positive Rachel Berry didn't need to remind me to smile today.

_Now that she's back from that soul vacation, tracing her way through the constellation, hey, hey, hey_

_She checks out Mozart while doe Tae-Bo, reminds me that there's room to grow, hey_

_Now that she's back in the atmosphere I'm afraid that she might think of me as_

_Plain ol' Jane told a story about a man, who was too afraid to fly so he never did land_

The feeling of singing in front of hundreds of people unleashed an Eden of butterflies in my stomach and the quick dancing helped cure my urge to jump frantically up and down. The song finally came to a close, we all belted out a verse in unison, ending with Blaine's voice echoing throughout the auditorium. He lifted his face to the spotlights and there was a wide smile spread across his face.

A wave of applause came in retaliation to the end of our first song and it surprised me when Rachel, in all her emerald green, polka dotted glory, stood up and clapped, her grin as wide as Blaine's.

With about ten seconds after the song, which we used to catch our breaths, we launched into the Rhythm of Love. Blaine seemed to get into the solo at the start of the song and he twirled and walked across the stage.

_My head is stuck in the clouds, she begs me to come down, says "Boy, quit foolin' around"_

_I told her, "I love the view from up here, warm sun and wind in my ear,_

_We'll watch the world from above as it turns to the rhythm of love."_

We stayed put, tapping our shoes and humming along, until it was our time to come in. There were plenty of opportunities for everyone to have a single verse so Blaine didn't steal the show. But the world seemed to melt away when Blaine turned to me to sing, "she's got blue eyes, deep like the sea, that roll back when she's laughing at me," and my face grew warm, and not just from the heat of the lighting. And then we were back on the stage, dancing and whirling under the bright spotlights.

_When the moon is low we can dance in slow motion,_

_And all your tears will subside, all your tears will dry_

My hands shook at my sides as we spread out across the stage, snapping our fingers and humming.

_And long after I've gone, you'll still be humming along,_

_And I will keep you in my mind, the way you make love so fine._

_We may only have tonight, but til the morning sun, you're mine, all mine,_

_Play the music low and sway to the rhythm of love_

_Play the music low and sway to the music of love_

_Yeah, sway to the music of love_

Blaine stopped his singing for a moment and the Warblers and I filled the empty space with soft singing. He jumped back in at the right time and it clicked, the entire thing clicked together perfectly. We sung the last note in a group, as one person, and it sounded heavenly as it bounced around the room. The adrenaline rush the two songs gave me as well as everyone else was thrilling. It was indescribable to bask in the glow of the lights and the applause and I closed my eyes momentarily. The shuffle of feet brought me back to reality and the rest of my glee club was departing the stage. Blaine stepped out to the side to warm his throat for his solo and everyone exited backstage.

As I followed Wes and David through the door, Blaine called my name. I looked back and he made a waving gesture with his hand.

I must've looked confused because he hissed, "Get over here!"

"What, Blaine?" The curtains were drawn again and it seemed like they would open any minute. "You're about to go on, what are you doing?"

"Even though it's a solo—"

"_Your _solo."

"I want you to watch."

"I'll be in the audience, Blaine, of course I'll be watching."

"Just stay backstage, okay?"

"Why?"

"You're my good luck charm."

"Everyone else is sitting in the audience."

"They're not my good luck charms. You are. Just stay. Please?"

I stared at him for a moment, occasionally glancing out of the corner of my eye at the drawn curtains. I sighed, "Okay, okay, fine. I'll stay."

"Thanks, Kurt," Blaine sighed, followed by a warm smile.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." I waved my hand at him. What was he doing? He was trying to be nice and get under my skin. Well, it wasn't going to work on me. I wouldn't let it happen. Nope, no way, no how. I turned my back to him to walk to the side of the stage and the curtains slowly tore apart.

Why would I ever want to hear him sing Bruno Mars for the umpteenth time? It was all over the radio and the television. In fact, I could take a three and a half minute nap, leaning against the wall, if I wanted to. I was always flexible with sleeping. A nap is what I needed after so many sleepless nights during the past three weeks.

The start of music brought me back to the present. The opening bars didn't sound like Just the Way You Are whatsoever. A solo oboe began the song. This was _definitely _not Bruno Mars. No, no, no. Oh, god, no. I found myself shaking my head in a continuous cycle as I realized the song Blaine slowly started was On My Own from Les Mis. No, no, no!

"Oh, god, no!" I choked out in a whisper. "Oh, why would he choose such a song? He's such an idiot! I'll take Bruno Mars instead now!"

_And now I'm all alone again nowhere to turn, no one to go to__  
__without a home without a friend without a face to say hello to__  
__And now the night is near.__  
__Now I can make believe he's here._

My muscles locked and it was impossible to move an inch, even though I wanted to run out through the back door. My hands covered my mouth in shock, mostly to keep inside the horrible gasping noises that were sure to come through my lips.

_Sometimes I walk alone at night__  
__When everybody else is sleeping__  
__I think of him and then I'm happy.__  
__With the company I'm keeping__  
__The city goes to bed__  
__And I can live inside my head._

Blaine _was not _singing Les Mis, Blaine _was not _singing Les Mis, Blaine _was not _singing Les Mis! Okay, he physically was, but _still! _How? What happened to Bruno Mars? Was he lying to me this entire trip? What the hell? He was singing a _woman's _song! Katy Perry was his only exception and other than her, he _never _sung anything written and performed by a woman.

_On my own__, __pretending he's beside me.__  
__All alone,__I walk with him till morning.__  
__Without him,__  
__I feel his arms around me__  
__And when I lose my way I close my eyes__  
__And he has found me._

_In the rain the pavement shines like silver,__  
__All the lights are misty in the river__  
__In the darkness, the trees are full of starlight__  
__And all I see is him and me forever and forever._

At the last verse, Blaine turned his head to glance in my direction. And of course, I _just had _to be crying and unceremoniously wiping my eyes with the cuff of my blazer. He _knew _Les Mis was one of my favorite musicals and he _just had _to sing this song, out of all the other songs in the entire production!

_And I know it's only in my mind__that I'm talking to myself and not to him,__  
__And although I know that he is blind__. __Still I say, there's a way for us._

_I love him, __But when the night is over,__  
__He is gone, __the river's just a river__without him.__  
__The world around me changes,__  
__The trees are bare and everywhere,__  
__The streets are full of strangers._

He pulled off this song damn well, taking into account that he never sung in the upper register. Blaine was a part of the song as he waved his arms in animation and jumped and swept and glided across the stage under the bright spotlights. The audience, including our fellow Warblers, sat astonished; no one dared to break the flow of his voice by talking or whispering.

_I love him,__ b__ut every day I'm learning.__  
__All my life, __I've only been pretending__  
__Without me,__ h__is world would go on turning.__  
__A world that's full of happiness__  
__That I have never known!_

Blaine paused to take a tremendous breath and everyone, me included, leaned forward in anticipation. The auditorium fell as silent as a television on mute and just the smallest amount of talking would shatter it like fine china.

_I love him__  
__I love him__  
__I love him__  
__But only on my own._

Tears blurred my vision as I sucked in a breath and dared to step onto the stage. Once a few heads in the crowd flickered to me, there was no backing out. I stormed across the stage as Blaine held the last note. He stood almost on the edge, threatening to fall if he did so much as shift his weight. He was so into the moment that he didn't notice me practically run from backstage to where he perched.

Blaine cut off the last note early when I lunged and locked my arms around his waist.

"What do you think you're doing, you idiot?" I shouted over the sudden roar of applause and stepped back. "What happened to Bruno Mars?"

"I'm in love with you, that's what!" he replied and grabbed my hands in his. "I'm freaking head-over-heels in love with you!"

Blaine tugged me into a tight hug and I buried my face into his shoulder. It was all a dream, I told myself. Blaine really didn't sing Les Mis for me in Nationals performance. He really didn't confess his love for me in front of hundreds of people. And I really didn't feel the same way. Was it really just a dream or reality?

The thunder of applause faded away into nothing. It was just the two of us, standing alone onstage, wrapped in each other's arms. He muttered something in my ear, but it only sounded fuzzy. Then my feet started moving and Blaine's arm curled tightly around my waist. We were leaving the stage and I lifted my head.

Backstage came quickly, engulfing us in sudden darkness. A smile possessed my face until it began to ache and I looked at Blaine. Over his shoulder I saw the New Directions. They all stood looking at Blaine and I with wondrous expressions. I recognized Mercedes through my tear-blurred eyes, as well as Rachel and Finn. But before I could even think of saying something, Blaine whisked me through the door and down into the seating area.

The group of Warblers wore identical grins and David performed a quick whistle as we took the last two seats in the first row. Blaine rolled his eyes and his face flushed and something told me it wasn't just from the solo.

"So," I said as we sat down, "thanks to lying for me about your solo."

"I'm sorry about that, Kurt, it would've ruined my apology for being such a jerk to you and this was also my stupid way of making a complete fool of myself, onstage, by singing a girl's song—"

"Yeah, I noticed that."

"—and trying to apologize and also to tell you that I'm in love with you. It's also a relationship proposal, if you'll accept it," he finished with a heavy sigh.

"Did you just ask me to be your boyfriend?" I questioned with fear. "Because if it was marriage, I'd have to say no. Just imagine the looks on my parents' faces when they hear I have a four carrot ring on my finger by the end of tonight."

"Oh, how I wish I had a ring, because I would definitely take your hand in holy matrimony right now," Blaine said adamantly with a laugh. "And yes, I did just ask you to be my boyfriend."

"For now about the marriage part," I answered with a grin, "and yes, to the boyfriend proposal."

"Wonderful." He lifted my hand to his lips, just as the lights dimmed.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer spoke over the microphone, "I give to you our final competitors in their Nationals performance. Please welcome, the New Directions, from William McKinley High School in Lima, Ohio!"

"We'll talk about this later," I promised in a whisper to Blaine as the curtain parted.

Oh, if there were three songs I'd wish to sing with my old glee club, it would be the songs they chose for Nationals. The first song that faded in was identifiable as Pinball Wizard by The Who. My foot tapped along to the easy beat as Puckerman, singing his heart out, traded verses with Artie in a duet. They put on quite a show as they moved across the stage, wheelchair and all.

After the short applause, the sounds transitioned into I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues by Elton John and my heart soared in adoration. Finn broke through the group of background singers to take the lead and I cheered inwardly. Blaine smiled from the corner of my eye. The way he sung it, it was easily better than the original. A tear streaked down my cheek as Finn held out the final note. At the sound of the third and final song, I all but sprung onto my feet.

Baba O'Riley, written by The Who. It was the perfect ending song for the perfect Nationals performance. It made me wonder who came up with the set list. Thought the song was written for one soloist, each member of the club belted out at least one verse, even the girls. Then I heard the voice and my face went sheet white, my smile quickly departing.

_Don't cry, don't raise your eye._

_It's only teenage wasteland._

Those were the only words it took to drain the giddy feeling from me.

"What's wrong, Kurt?" Blaine worriedly asked, noticing my limp grip on his hand. "Are you okay?"

The only thing I was capable of doing was biting my lip and shaking my head, my eyes fixed on the burly figure in the back who had just sung. I didn't even know he had a voice. Karofsky was far better off on the football field than on the stage.

Blaine scanned the stage and finally his eyes went wide and he sat back. His hand tightened around mine and he said under his breath, "I'll make sure he's nowhere near you when we're onstage for the award ceremony. He won't come within twenty feet of you when I'm around, okay?"

How could the big, lumbering Karofsky make it into Glee club? What happened to that pudgy girl with glasses and an obsession for chocolate? Did they kick her out and invite Karofsky in to take her place? Surely everyone would've rejected him immediately, right? They all knew he made my life a living hell at McKinley. Why was he here now? Just seeing him made my heart pound.

Then I was tugged to my feet as Blaine tried to get me to stand. The New Directions had left the stage already, leaving it empty, and most of the Warblers headed that way. Blaine and I were the last ones backstage.

"Don't worry, Kurt," he said comfortingly and placed an arm around my shoulders. "He'll stay far away from you, I'll make sure of it."

Wes stood at the front of the group, saying something with huge arm motions, but it was hard to pay attention with Karofsky staring at me. As soon as my eyes met his he winked and gave a small smile; I sneered in disgust and held back the urge to vomit in my mouth. I wanted nothing from him. His eyes wandered to my side and glimpsed Blaine with his arm still wrapped protectively around my shoulder. His smile dropped into a flat line. Now that he saw Blaine, what would he do?

Wes ushered us onto the stage. Mr. Schue and the New Directions filled up of the left half of the stage and the Warblers took up the remaining space on the right. A lump formed in my throat to the point where it was almost impossible to speak clearly. Blaine slipped his hand into mine and squeezed it tightly.

"Whatever the result," he mumbled under his breath, "I'll still love you. We'll still be the Warblers, no matter what."

I nodded, my eyes fixed on a point far off in the back of the auditorium, though black was the only thing visible; the spotlights were gradually turning on and it made it seem we were staring out into nothing. Someone on the opposite side of the stage whispered hope to another person. The longer we had to wait onstage for the results, the more we started to loosen up a little and talk to one another. Rachel's voice rang out as she said something loudly to either Mr. Schue or Finn, who followed with silence.

Then it hit me.

We were in the same exact positions as we had been at Sectionals, Warblers on the right and New Directions on the left. Did this mean we wouldn't win? Was it some crazy sign? Would we win after all? I was going insane if I was focusing on a little coincidence.

A thin man holding a microphone slipped onto the stage, an envelope tucked in his other hand. Just the sight of him holding our results was enough to send my heart racing. Blaine gave my hand another comforting squeeze.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the man said after he tested the device, "we are here today to watch these two amazing groups perform their hearts out today. They put out spectacular shows, each with their unique qualities. But only one can win the title of Nationals."

The air was still, like everyone in the world was holding their breath, even if it was just for two minutes. Out of the corner of my eye, my old glee club had their heads ducked down, clutching each other's hands for support. The Warblers mimicked them and it was dizzying just watching my shoes. There was shift of paper as the envelope was opened.

"Before I announce the results," the man said, "it does not matter who wins. Their feelings about their performance matter. These two groups worked extremely hard just to be here today. Now, the results . . ." One two three four five six seven eight nine ten seconds passed and it felt like days. "The first place winner in today's Nationals performance is . . ."

Everyone sucked in a breath. The silence was unbearable and pounded horribly against my head like one hundred timpani drums. My throat and mouth became dry and the lump in my throat prevented me from swallowing. My breathing was erratic and it took me every ounce of will power I had left to resist from screaming, _Just say it already!_

" . . . The Dalton Academy Warblers, from Westerville, Ohio!"

The room went from dead silent to bursting with life within seconds. The Warblers let out collective shouts and hollers and whoops and high fives were everywhere, as well as hugs and fist bumps. The left side of the stage was shocked into silence and someone, a girl, sniffed loudly.

As I turned my head to make sure Rachel wasn't sobbing her eyes out, Blaine took my face in his hands and kissed me full on the mouth. My hands flew up to grab the lapels of his blazer, trying to pull him closer if it were possible, but the group "Ooooooh!" from the Warblers broke us apart, red faced.

"Well," Wes said loudly and jabbed David in the ribs with his elbow, "getting some at Nationals, are we?"

"Shut up!" Blaine and I shrieked in unison. This only caused them to roar in laughter.

Wes stepped aside to receive the large trophy, complete with a shiny plaque, from one of the middle-aged judges. They shook hands and snapped a quick photo. The trophy was similar to the one we earned at Sectionals, but this one was at least half a foot taller. My face started to ache from smiling as I observed our memento that would go home with us two days from now.

"Hey, Kurt, congratulations."

Finn Hudson walked across the stage, despite the prominent boundary line between our two clubs. It was almost like a game of Capture the Flag. If you crossed onto the enemy's territory, you were fair game to anyone willing to capture you. I glanced down at the floor, almost imagining the red line spray painted on the hardwood floor. Blaine nodded, seeing my step-brother, and backed up to join his teammates; the New Directions did the same, but Karofsky watched me with baffled eyes as he stood by Puckerman. Was Finn keeping him in line for bullying me in the past? Were the boys?

"Thank you, Finn," I said and crossed my hands behind my back. "It means a lot to me."

"You deserve it," he insisted and rubbed the back of his neck. "Your show was, uh, pretty good. I've never even heard of those songs until now."

I nodded. "I liked your solo. It fit you well."

We both paused, listening to the noises around us and taking in the sights. It turned out that Rachel was sobbing her eyes out, leaning against Mr. Schue; Tina held her hand. Rachel's grip seemed so tight that it would eventually snap Tina's hand. I leaned around Finn to see her lift her head: her black mascara ran in thick rivers down her pale cheeks and her eyes were red and puffy.

"Have you two made up yet?" I asked, gesturing to the poor damsel. She gave me a deadly glare.

"Um, yeah," Finn said and nodded in agreement. "After we talked at the hotel, actually. Rachel found out about the thing between Santana and I last year and we broke up for a few weeks, when she dated Puck, but it's all good now. We've both forgiven each other."

"That's good." I smiled, but then it faded. "She doesn't appear like she's taking this too well, does she?"

Finn smiled faintly. "Not at all. But she'll learn from it and get better. That's what she always tells me: 'Learn from your mistakes and you will get better.'"

"That does sound like her," I agreed and played with one of the buttons on my blazer.

"So, speaking of relationships," Finn led on and shifted his weight onto his other foot, "how is everything with, um . . ."

"Blaine," I supplied, when he couldn't think of the correct name.

"Yeah," he said. "You know, your face lights up when you say his name."

"Oh, well . . ." My face grew warm again and I was positive it was a crimson color of some sort.

"That's because I love him, and he knows it!" Blaine said cheerfully and appeared by my side, placing his arm around my waist. He laughed when my face flushed a deeper pink. "I'm Blaine," he introduced to Finn, "your step-brother's lover slash best friend."

"Lover?"

"Well, I'll be what he wants me to be." He shrugged. "If Kurt wants me to be a lover, that's what I'll be. Or I'll be a friend when he needs it, or his brother when he's having nightmares at Dalton and you're not around." He poked me in the ribcage with his elbow jokingly. "But mostly, I'll be his friend when Wes and David aren't available. Hell, I'll even be a strawberry, if he wants me to."

"A strawberry?" Finn asked, bewildered.

"It's his favorite fruit, of course," Blaine explained with an excited grin. "Especially on French vanilla, low-fat ice cream with sugar-free whipped cream. And hot fudge for a topping. Which I will buy for him after we get out of this place."

As they laughed I buried my face in my hands. "Blaine, stop! Seriously!"

"Seriously, Kurt!" Blaine mocked and gave me a quick hug. "We're leaving in about ten minutes, if you want to stay and socialize, okay?" I nodded and he kissed my cheek, leaving me with a beet red face and my step-brother smiling uncontrollably.

"That answers my question," he laughed and patted my shoulder. "I'm happy for you, Kurt. I'm glad you're fitting in at Dalton. And you've found someone who can feel the same way you do and that was something I wasn't able to do. I mean, not that I want to or anything, wait, no offense . . ."

"It's okay," I said before he got too flustered with himself. "I get what you're saying. And I am fitting in better. McKinley just wasn't the right place for me and I see that now. It wasn't a place where I could learn or be me. Even though I can't wear my normal clothes during the school hours at Dalton, I can wear them on the weekends and after hours. I can still be me."

Finn nodded. "Do you mind if I steal you away from your bird club for a few more minutes? I'm sure everyone wants to say hi. You don't know how many times Mercedes has asked me how you're doing."

I glanced back at the Warblers, trying to ignore their new pet name, and replied, "They won't notice for at least five minutes, so why not?"

I crossed the boundary onto the New Directions side and as soon as I did, Mercedes attacked me with a bone-crushing hug, muttering about how great it was to see me again, and not just on Skype. Sam and Puck nodded once to me and I smiled to both; we weren't the best of friends at McKinley, but it was still pleasant to see them. Tina and Artie and Mike gave me hugs or pats on the back. Brittany, Quinn and Santana told me _good to see you _with their eyes and a nod.

Finally, coming from her wallowing pit of misery, Rachel stumbled away from Mr. Schue, dabbing at her eyes with her wrists. The black came off on her hands and was drying in streaks on her face. Mr. Schue's shirt was damp and gray from where she had sobbed against his chest.

"Congratulations," she choked out, her voice raw. Her face was streaked with anger and sadness. "You were awesome, I have to say."

"I guess that's the only compliment you'll be giving out tonight?" I guessed.

"You know it."

"Oh, Rachel," I sighed and gave her a smile.

But her reaction was the opposite.

"I hate you, Kurt!" she wailed and she slammed the bottom of her foot against the stage like a toddler on a rampage. "I just hate you! Why did you have to leave? You were better off with us, not _them! _I hate you so much for not staying, Kurt!"

Rachel stormed forward and threw her arms around my neck in an awkward embrace. I was startled to the point where I couldn't say anything. What was she _doing_?

"You don't know how much of a wreck we are without you!" she cried and leaned her head against my shoulder and I gave a look of panic to Finn; from the way she'd screamed, I thought there would have been a few fists swung in my direction, but instead there were tears and sob stories. "Kurt, we aren't the New Directions without you! You don't know how much of a bitch I am now because you aren't there to challenge me for solos! I'm actually picking on people for my own entertainment! It's horrible!"

Over her shoulder, Quinn and Santana gagged and rolled their eyes.

"I'm sorry, Rachel?" I said weakly, not knowing what would make her feel better. There was nothing that could raise her spirits at this point, I realized. "I'm kind of tied up at Dalton." She mumbled something in audible and Finn gently pried her away from me; she instantly clung to him like a wet shirt to skin.

"It was nice to see you again, Kurt," Mr. Schue said and glanced at the sobbing girl in Finn's arms. "We'll see you the next time we see you. I think your school is leaving." I nodded and gave them all a parting farewell. However, as I turned to cross the boundary line, I was caught and a hand clasped over my shoulder. Almost home free. Dammit.

"Hey," Karofsky said in his sarcastic voice.

Taking a deep breath, I turned around to face him. He had grown at least an inch since I'd left McKinley and I felt as powerless as I always felt around him. "What do you want, Karofsky?"

"Can't one rival say congrats to another?" he asked smugly.

"When it's you, no," I sneered. "Now, if you'll excuse me, my school is leaving." I started to turn but he moved, jumping in front of me. "What do you want?"

"Look," he said and his voice was much softer, "I'm sorry about everything. The, um, thing in the locker room and the bullying."

"No, you're not," I stated. "You're not sorry about anything. Everything was intentional. The bullying, the _kiss,_" –I said the word loudly in hopes someone would hear and he all but threw his hand over my mouth—"everything. You're not sorry about anything, Karofsky. Now just leave me alone."

"Kurt, come on," he said to coax me. Over his shoulder Blaine stood at the edge of the stage, watching me with terrified eyes. He mouthed one word: _courage. _Though he said the word, he seemed to hold himself back from charging across the stage to bail me out. The word seemed to have taken on a completely different meaning over the past month, but it was clear what the definition was now.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat and turned to the New Directions, to Finn.

"You want to know why this guy's been bullying me for months?" I demanded of my old club and jabbed my thumb at the football player. They glanced over, startled. "Well, he's _gay. _Karofsky is _gay!_ That's why he tormented me for so long! There! I said it and I feel so much better now that it's off my chest!"

Everyone's faces dropped in realization and their eyes fixed on the boy's face.

I turned back to the bully. "It was about time someone said something about your little _disease, _our little _disease,_" I mocked. "It couldn't go on forever and you knew it. How long did you think you could keep it a secret, anyway? It was bound to come out sooner or later. Now, my school is leaving, and we have to get back to our hotel."

He stood there with his mouth open as I swiftly walked past him, over the boundary line, and joined Blaine at the edge of the stage. There was an indescribable smile on his face and he linked arms with me as we traveled backstage to join the rest of the Warblers.

"Well done," he commented under his breath. I smiled as we exited Washington High School, the trophy hoisted above our heads.

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**_Well, there you have it! Please check out the songs each group sang in this chapter, because they're all amazing! Reviews would be amazing!_**


	8. Epilogue

**_Well, this is it. This is the Epilogue for To Be Honest. I intended the story to be at least one chapter longer, but oh well. I'll deal with as it is now. Yep, so... enjoy!_**

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The spoon clanked against the small glass dish as I stirred the concoction carefully, mixing the hot fudge with the chopped strawberries. The Warblers squeezed into two and half booths in the corner, all with bowls or cones of triple scoop ice cream covered in some kind of syrup. Blaine and I opted for a booth on the other side of the Cold Stone Creamery ice cream parlor, with our backs to the talking.

The flooring consisted of numerous white tiles and light brown paint covered the walls. The booths everyone sat in were covered in brightly colored vinyl material and the linoleum tables showed no sign of debris or sticky residue. The sun on the horizon cast golden rays on our table and reached other parts of the parlor.

Blaine eyed his cone. He had four scoops piled into it, including French vanilla, chocolate chip cookie dough, mint, and strawberry. He licked the side of it before taking a huge amount of the vanilla into his mouth ungracefully. White trickled from one corner of his mouth and he mopped it up with a napkin.

"So," he said after he swallowed, "how do you like you low-fat vanilla ice cream with sugar-free whipped cream, topped with sliced strawberries and hot fudge?"

I smiled and lifted a spoonful to my lips. "It's amazing. Thank you for buying, by the way."

"It's not a problem," he promised. "Just something for a treat after our big win. But if Wes and David expect me to pay for the rest of the group, I swear . . ." He crumpled the napkin threateningly in his fists, tossing it on the table, and grabbed another one.

"Speaking of our big win," I brought up and set my spoon in the bowl, "I thought I would simultaneously combust. I didn't know it was possible for the world to carry on afterward."

"Oh, me too," he agreed with a definite nod. He paused to take another lick of ice cream before continuing. "It's just too good to be true. It's like, what do we do after we prepare for weeks for an event that seems to take only five seconds? There's nothing left to do."

I nodded and popped a slice of strawberry on my tongue. The fruit tasted sweet like sugar with hints of chocolate and I sighed. Blaine had gone silent as he attempted to maneuver the remaining amount of vanilla into his mouth. It was entertaining to see him puffy-cheeked and figure out how to swallow without choking. He seemed to swallow it all at once and he let out a satisfied sigh.

"I'm sorry."

"What?" I asked and twirled the utensil between my index finger and thumb. "You already apologized for starting the whole solo war, no need to again."

He shook his head. "That's not what I'm apologizing for." I gestured for him to continue and he took a deep breath. "Kurt, I'm sorry I was never a role model to you. I know you looked up to me because I was gay with a good voice. I was gay and I _fit in at school_. An all boys' school, to make things better. Your story of being tormented at your old school reminded me of myself: I was a complete coward before I transferred to Dalton. Hell, I even ate lunch in the bathrooms every day to avoid being beaten up. If bullies found me in the bathrooms, I locked myself in the janitor's closet or my car.

"All I'm trying to say is that I should've been a better role model. All those times I sent you courage, I wished I'd had someone to do that for me. I wish someone would've been there for me to give me hope every day. I barely lasted two months at my old school before I begged to be transferred to Dalton and you lasted . . . what, a whole year? I'm a hypocrite, basically. I ran away from my problems when I was in your situation, yet I was telling you to gather courage and face your own.

"Anyway, I'm just sorry for not being a good person in general, Kurt. I know I'm repeating myself and I should just shut up now. Nervous habit." He stopped talking and took a momentous mouthful of ice cream.

I sat there, the cold glass bowl clenched in my hands, and stared at him. Tears pricked the backs of my eyes and I sighed, ducking my head. He slid a few napkins across the table to me and touched my hand.

"You also taught me a few things about love," he added softly as I blew my nose.

"Oh, no," I moaned, "don't start with love."

"Too bad, because that's what I'm starting with." He paused to grin. "I kind of hated you when I saw your video Rachel sent us. I hated you because you are, in fact, better than me. You're a better singer than me. I hated you because I've never actually had any competition before and I didn't know how to react." I sniffed. "And please realize that when I hated you, I was in love with you to the point where I couldn't sleep at night."

"You really couldn't sleep at night?" I held the napkin and looked at him; his hazel eyes sparkled in the early evening sun. "Now you're being a little overdramatic."

"No, I'm not. It was terrible, what I did, and it kept me up when I needed to sleep. It made me wonder what I could do to make you forgive me. One morning, I thought to bring you a pumpkin spice lattes and a chocolate chip muffin in the mornings, but that would be a little over the top if you added it to carrying your books to class."

"I do like pumpkin spice lattés," I mumbled and ate another spoonful of ice cream. There was silence as we both ate our frozen treats. Wes and David shouted so loud across the parlor, it was easy to make out what they were saying. It involved a duck and a weed whacker and I didn't want to know. I paused to blow my nose once more and he handed me another napkin.

He smiled. "So, that was some way you handled Berry and Karofsky back at the school."

"Rachel wasn't that difficult to deal with, as she screamed at me like that all the time at McKinley," I explained and took a calming breath. "But Karofsky . . . I had flashbacks of locker shovings and slushie facials and being tormented on a regular basis. It was horrible. I thought he was going to knock my head off for telling everyone he was gay."

"What do you think everyone did about it after we left?" Blaine wondered and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

I shrugged. "Knowing Finn, he probably tried to talk to him. I can imagine Sam and Mike jumping in to start a fight, with the exception of Puckerman. He's on probation, you know. If there was a little brawl, Karofsky would've sucker punched Sam again. Karofsky gave him his first black eye after he attacked him in the locker room for bullying me."

"That makes sense."

"Now that his secret is out," I continued and stirred the melting ice cream, "I would recommend a few weeks in therapy with Ms. Pillsbury, our guidance counselor, and quitting the football team. I know when Finn got me on the team, I only played to impress my dad, and also to see Finn more than I usually did in the halls." I flushed and ended quickly with regret.

"No, what else were you going to say?" Blaine asked and leaned his arms on the table. "There's got to be more to this story."

"Okay, there is," I sighed and buried my face in my hands. "Finn, the tall guy you met at Nationals, is my step-brother because his mother and my father got married about three weeks before Sectionals. Before our parents had even met, I had the biggest crush a guy could have on him. It's not there anymore, of course, because that would be a little awkward for the both of us. Okay, you can laugh now."

"Why would I laugh?" Blaine's hand clasped mine gently. "After my first few days at Dalton, I developed a crush on,"—he paused to laugh nervously and glance over his shoulder—"Wes. I had a crush on Wes."

I peeked up at him. "No offense, but _Wes_?"

"He looked gay at the time," he defended with a grin. "But when he brings it up, I always say I fell in love with him because of his charming nature and handsomeness, just to make him look good in front of everyone. To be honest, he just looked gay to me."

I let out a small chuckle. "Well, that was like Finn and I. I was completely in love with him, but he had a girlfriend already. It was quite annoying. But then again, if he did end up gay, I don't know where _we'd_ be right now." With a shy smile I finished off the rest of my ice cream and pushed the empty dish in front of me.

"Um, you've got a little something . . ." Blaine trailed off and gestured to the area around my mouth. I reached for a clean napkin out of the wire holder, but he leaned across the table and pressed his icy lips to mine. It was a short kiss, however it left me lightheaded and breathless. He sat back with a soft smile and ran his tongue over his bottom lip. "Ah," he sighed, "strawberries. Yummy."

My face flushed and my lips turned up in a smile.

"So, does this mean you're moving back into the hotel room again?" Blaine asked hopefully and held his cone out. There were still the two scoops of strawberry and mint left. I wrapped my hand around the one that held the cone and brought it towards me for a small taste.

"Definitely. I'll stop by Wes and David's room when we get back tonight to pick up my bags," I answered as he pulled it back to him. "I'm sorry I walked out on you like that, I feel horrible."

"I don't blame you," he said with a full mouth. After he swallowed, he continued, "If I was being such a jerk to myself, I would've left." He shrugged. "So, another topic. Did you like the song?"

I nodded enthusiastically. "You don't even have to ask. Les Mis is my favorite musical, aside from Wicked, of course. But . . . why?"

"Because I already told you," he sighed and faked disappointment. "If I told you, 'Hey Kurt! I'm singing On My Own for Nationals to apologize for being a jerk and I want you to be my boyfriend!' then it wouldn't have been so much a surprise, would it?"

"Does everything have to be a surprise?" I laughed and folded my hands together on the table.

"It works out better," Blaine answered. "I'm glad you liked it. I spent maybe three hours practicing that song after you left last night. It took _forever_ to get some of the high notes at the right pitch, considering it is usually sung by a girl."

"So was that the cause of your lack of sleep today?" He nodded with an obvious air. The purple smudges under his eyes were not as prominent as before and he looked like he would fall asleep any minute. "God, I hate it when you do things because of me!"

"Would you have rather heard Bruno Mars or Les Mis? Because I would've dedicated either to you."

"Les Mis."

"That's what I thought."

I turned my head to glance out the window. Since the parlor was located quite a distance away from the usual New York traffic, the streets weren't filled with cars and taxis. Not a soul walked along the sidewalks. "You know, when you sung today, it reminded me an awful lot of Rachel. She sung On My Own for her audition piece at the beginning of last year."

"Did she sound better than me?" he asked teasingly.

"Well . . ."

"Kurt!"

"Blaine!"

"Why'd you say my name?"

"Only because you said mine. Just thought I'd even it out."

He swatted at my hand. "You're really weird, you know?"

"But you love me anyway," I sighed contently and nudged his foot under the table. He kicked my shin and I winced.

"Oh, gosh, are you okay?" Blaine asked and worry streaked his face. "That wasn't supposed to happen, I swear."

I laughed through gritted teeth and reached down to rub my aching ankle. "Yeah, just fine, but you're going to get it sometime while you sleep tonight. Tomorrow morning you might wake up with purple hair."

"You'd really turn these luscious locks purple?" Blaine asked and whisked one hand through his hair while trying to keep the cone away from his uniform.

"I am _not _going to answer that," I said quickly and leaned my face in my hand, trying to hide the red creeping onto my cheeks.

He over exaggerated his eye roll. "Well, at least answer this one for me: tomorrow's our last free day in New York. Where do you want to go?"

"You're asking me for an opinion?" I looked up at him asked in fake shock. He gave me an _are you joking _face in return. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Well, I was thinking maybe ice skating for a little bit, Starbucks after, maybe some shopping-you could use a few new shirts-possibly dinner at a nice Italian restaurant and then come back to the hotel for movie night. How does that sound?" I grabbed my spoon from glass bowl and scooped a little off the top of his cone.

"How long have you had that planned?" Blaine asked in disbelief.

"Oh, not long."

"Really."

"Really. Do you not believe me?"

"Not really. It's kind of—"

"Oh, shut up!" I sighed and wrapped my hand around Blaine's, forcing the ice cream cone directly into his face as he was in midsentence. Pink and green covered his face from his hairline to his chin and it was hard to stifle a laugh. Most of the cone's contents covered his face and he glared at me from under the mask. Rolling my eyes, I stood up and leaned across the table to kiss him.

When I finally pulled away, I licked my lips and commented, "Mmm. Mint. Lovely choice."

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**_Hope you enjoyed the story! I'll be writing on my vacation until I get back Sunday. Until then, you can send me messages, but there's a good chance I won't answer until Sunday night or Monday morning. I'll be working on all those fanfic suggestions and requests everyone sent in! I'll try to write most of them! Until Sunday, goodbye! Reviews on the entire story would be lovely!_**


	9. Epilogue AddIn

**_I'm terribly sorry about this, but this little excerpt was supposed to be added on to the Epilogue! I just forgot to add it! And to everyone who will hit me with tomatoes after this: CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.

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I jolted into a sitting position, beads of sweat collecting on my forehead. Ringing sounded in my ears and it calmed me to figure out it was simply the alarm clock resting on the bedside table. My heart hammered in my chest and blood rushed in my ears, letting me hear my heartbeat.

"Kurt! Are you awake in there?" A pound sounded against the door and I stumbled out of my twin bed and onto the cluttered floor with the sheets tangled dangerously around my legs. The voice shouted something again and I silenced the clock by yanking the cord out of the socket in the wall with shaky hands; it called my name once more and I squeaked out a few words of assurance. _What was going on? What just happened?_ My head spun as I scrambled to my feet and I blinked. _Since when have I owned so many pink clothes? And why are they all on the floor? I would've hung them up in the closet! _My conscience screamed and my eyes darted around the room. Two boxes of Kleenex sat on the dresser beside two bottles of cherry flavored cough syrup and a few boxes of over-the-counter allergy medicine. Small wads of tissues dotted the floor around me.

I clutched one of the posts on the bed to pull myself up. My legs moved me to the door in a baffled daze, stepping clumsily over discarded term papers and two open textbooks. The handle seemed to be made of ice when I twisted it to open the door. Blaine Anderson stood in the hall in front of my door with his hands crossed behind his back. He looked me over once with wide eyes and said,

"I see you're not quite ready yet."

"Hm? Oh, I guess I'm not," I admitted shyly and rubbed one of my eyes sleepily.

"Get dressed!" he said with a laugh. "Where's the regular Kurt? The one who wakes up at o-dark thirty out of nervous habit when stuff like this happens? You should be organizing the music folios in the choir room or cleaning your bathroom again."

"That one's not awake, either."

Blaine sighed. "I can't blame you, really. I'd act like that if I'd been sick with a cold for a week and a half."

"_What? _Sick?" I said again in bewilderment.

"I guess you're still sick," Blaine mused. He reached forward to pluck a crumpled tissue from my hair and pressed it into the palm of my hand. "You've been stuck in your room for two weeks with the cold. I swear, you downed so much cough medicine, it could stock the nurse's office. I came by every day to see how you were doing and it was like stepping into _Inception. _You kept muttering about Elton John and Nationals and purple hair"—he paused to grin—"you said my name more than once."

"That's quite embarrassing." My cheeks felt warm and I was positive the skin turned a shade of pink. In an attempt to hide it, I turned to the clock on my bedside table. Ten-fifteen. "If you're willing to wait, I can change and be out in a few minutes."

"I wish I could, but I have to get back to the choir room. Wes is probably suffering from an aneurism trying to control everyone. David bought lattés in bulk and the caffeine's spiced them up, which is not good. Hey, come on, Kurt. Be excited for today!" he cheered when I yawned ferociously. "You don't look very festive."

"What's today again? I can't remember." I asked dreamily and feared the answer. My eyesight gradually became clear and it was much easier to see.

Blaine raised his eyebrows and bounced on the balls of his feet. "Are you kidding me? It's Regionals! How could you forget?"

I shrugged and folded my hands nervously. "I guess it just slipped my mind."

"I guess so, considering you've had that cold for the past week," he laughed. "Well, get ready as soon as you can. Can't wait to hear your solo, by the way. I've never heard you sing Elton John before."

I tried at a smile. "Thank you. I'll be ready soon." Blaine nodded his head and turned to leave when I caught the sleeve of his blazer. "Blaine? Has there been any incidents in which . . . um, Regionals was skipped? Ever?"

"_Skipped?_" he repeated. "It's between Sectionals and Nationals, so no, I don't think it's possible to skip it. It's been postponed and that's about it. Why do you ask?"

My face flushed. "No reason. And Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"Are we okay?"

"Okay with what?"

"Good! That's great!" I cheered and paused to cough. "That's all I needed to hear! I'll be in the choir room in ten minutes!" I closed the door and leaned against it. _Everything was a dream. Winning Nationals, skipping Regionals, calling out Karofsky . . . kissing Blaine._

"Take some medicine, okay?" he called through the door. "You've been really sick!"

"Yes, Mom!"

Thoughts ricocheted through my mind as I scrambled in the bathroom to get dressed. Oh, it seemed like weeks. How could a dream feel like weeks and weeks? It was a dream! It all happened a millisecond before one woke, yet it stretched into the span weeks. I sneezed and tugged on my blazer over a white button up shirt. I grabbed my shoes and hopped out the door while yanking one on.

I reached the choir room in relief. Wes stood on top of the desk with his hands raised in the air, trying to get everyone's attention. Blaine caught my eye from across the room as he shoved a few people into nearby seats. He winked and showed a white, toothy smile.

_All a dream._

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**You mad? :D Thoughts?**_


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